


What Are School Chums For?

by usuallyproperlyhydrated



Category: Agent Carter (TV), The Bletchley Circle
Genre: Bisexual Peggy Carter, F/F, I am trash for vintage lady loving ladies, vintage lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 09:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3805354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usuallyproperlyhydrated/pseuds/usuallyproperlyhydrated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have a headcanon that Millie and Peggy were friends (who sometimes kissed) while they were in school. This is a fic of them meeting up at Bletchley Park in 1941.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Are School Chums For?

**Author's Note:**

> I headcanon Millie to be about 35 or so during the Bletchley series, so in 1941 she'd be about 25, and Peggy is 22.

“Buy you a drink, Agent?”

“Millie!” Peggy threw her arms around her old friend. “I had no idea you were here at Bletchley!”

Millie signaled to the bartender to bring her another scotch and tsked. “Come now, darling, you know that you’ve never been able to lie to me.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Peggy said primly as she took a seat on the stool.

“My language skills are admirable, of course, but I would never have ended up in a top-secret government facility without a leg up from you, Clever Boots.”

Peggy thanked the bartender for her drink and took a sip before answering.

“All right, I did make a recommendation. But aren’t you glad I did? You would be one of those land girls otherwise. You’ve certainly got the arms for it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Millie feigned an indignant tone.

“But it would’ve been such a terrible waste of intelligence,” Peggy continued, pretending not to hear. “All that lovely French and German and Russian and Italian gone to rot in some field.”

“That’s enough of that. What are you doing at Bletchley? I’ve heard whispers of you working with MI6.”

“Bletchley _is_ MI6.”

“You know what I mean. Not just shut up in a hut doing fiddly work—going out there, training with guns, that sort of thing.”

“Something like that. I’m being given a brief course in basic code breaking, among other things.”

“‘Among other things,’” Millie repeated. “My, that does sound ominous. You are being safe, though, aren’t you, dear?”

“Did anyone ever tell you that there’s a war on, Millie?” Peggy asked casually.

“You know what I mean.” Millie swatted arm her affectionately. “Not taking unnecessary risks or the like.”

“When have I ever taken unnecessary risks?”

“My dear, I could list dozens of times you did heedless things for an extra bit of chocolate, let alone all the antics you pulled to get the attention of a beautiful person. I can’t imagine that any amount of aging or bombs dropping would change that.”

Peggy smiled and looked around the pub.

“This is a lively crowd,” she said. “Do you get on with all the women who work here?”

“I’ve always gotten along with other women splendidly,” Millie stated. “It’s their boyfriends and fiancés that usually take issue with me.”

“I don’t suppose they appreciate you teaching their girls how to kiss,” reasoned Peggy.

“If men knew how to kiss properly in the first place, I wouldn’t have to show women that there is a better way,” Millie said, pretending to be cross.

“Teaching any lessons here at Bletchley?” Peggy asked.

“Some. Not as many as at school. We haven’t got the time, frankly, and you know things like that rarely last.”

“I do.”

They both sighed.

“Fancy a stroll?” Millie proposed, shaking off her melancholy. “It’s quite nice out tonight.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The women finished their drinks, Millie paid the bartender, and they stepped out into the cool summer night. Millie slipped her arm through Peggy’s as they began to walk along the quiet streets.

“Where are you staying?” she asked. “Or is that classified as well?”

“We’re staying in one of the buildings in the park. It’s close to yours, if I remember correctly.”

“You have been doing your homework.”

“That’s all I do these days. I read files and files and try to commit every single thing to memory. Ms. Raleigh would be moved to tears.”

“The old bat wasn’t capable of crying,” Millie said darkly. “Do you remember that time she caught me sneaking out of your room?”

“You had to write an essay on the impropriety of your actions and outline why precisely you weren’t going to amount to anything, if I remember correctly.”

“Bloody awful.”

The two friends walked in silence for a while, stopping only to show their papers to the guards at the entrance to Bletchley Park.

“Cigarette?” Millie asked when they were almost to Peggy’s hut.

“No thanks.”

“Suit yourself.”

Peggy tried to stifle a smile as Millie stopped to light up her fag.

“What?”

“You still smoke the same brand.”

The smile slipped a notch and became wistful.

“Darling, are you quite all right? You look positively blue.”

“I’ve missed you.”

Millie stubbed out her cigarette and put the butt back in the box. She wrapped her arms around Peggy, who immediately buried her face in her shoulder. Millie heard the tell-tale strained breathing that always prefaced Peggy’s sobs and placed a kiss on her head.

“It’s all right, love,” she murmured. “You’ll be all right.”

“Sorry,” Peggy choked, “I’m—being ridiculous.”

The only response she got was Millie pulling her closer. Millie knew that Peggy would talk when she was ready and that it would be useless to try to get an explanation too soon. When Peggy had cried herself out, she took a steadying breath and stepped a little bit away.

“Sorry, it’s just—” she began. “You haven’t changed.”

“Well, I hope I’ve changed at least a little since secondary school,” replied Millie wryly.

“But you’re still so self-assured and kind and brilliant. You can still make me smile like very few others can. I came here hoping… I don’t know what I hoped. I suppose I hoped it would be easy to say goodbye. Goodness knows I’ve said it enough. But this time is different. This war is going to be worse than the one our parents fought. I’m being sent to do all sorts of dangerous things and there’s no guarantee that you’ll be safe here either.”

Peggy had eradicated the habit of ducking her head shortly after meeting Millie, but it came back in that moment.

“I care about you, Millie. You taught me to be confident, to never be less than I am for anyone—not for other women, and certainly not for men. You encouraged me when no one else did. I wouldn’t be living this extraordinary life without you.” For a moment it looked as though she was going to take Millie’s hand, but then she changed her mind. “I just wanted to tell you that, in case I don’t come back.”

“Oh, my clever, clever girl.” Millie took Peggy’s hand and pressed a kiss to it. “You’re tough, smart, and resilient, Margaret Carter. Surviving the war will be no problem at all for you. The real challenge will be surviving with your heart intact. Will you promise me something?”

Peggy nodded.

“Promise me that no matter what you see, no matter how horrific or vile or merciless, you will still find people to love. Because it’s no use surviving the war if you become bitter and wrapped up in yourself. Do you remember the Peggy who first arrived at Pickford Academy?”

“She lashed out quite a lot and wouldn’t let anyone get close to her,” Peggy said ruefully.

“Because she’d lost her parents and was scared of losing others she cared about. Will you promise that you won’t become that person again?”

“I don’t know if I can promise that.”

Millie kissed Peggy’s lips softly.

“Then promise you’ll at least try,” she said quietly. “Do it for your old friend, if not for yourself.”

“I promise.”

Peggy sealed her promise by returning Millie’s gentle kiss. They exchanged small, affectionate kisses, reveling in the comfort and intimacy, in the shadow of the hut until they heard a group of loud, happy codebreakers crunching along the path not too far away.

“I suppose I ought to let you go to bed,” Millie said, breaking away. “Special agents need their sleep.”

“As do brilliant linguists,” Peggy said with a smile.

She squeezed Millie’s hand just before they parted.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, darling.” Millie gave her one more kiss. “What are school chums for?”

**Author's Note:**

> I have all sorts of feelings about lady loving ladies during WW II. Especially about Millie, who I feel is the perfect queer whisperer. Future works might involve her and Joan Clarke getting drunk together and talking about sexuality...


End file.
